


madness takes its toll

by okaystop



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Acting, Alternate Universe, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Rocky Horror Picture Show References, community theater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 02:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20128120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaystop/pseuds/okaystop
Summary: There are always some surprises when it comes to community theater. Like that time when the director decides to stageThe Rocky Horror Show.A Crooked Community Theater Company AU.





	madness takes its toll

**Author's Note:**

> I am not even the slightest bit sorry that any of this happened.
> 
> Help us all stay sane inside insanity; keep it secret and safe. Let's not share this outside of fandom spaces. Although if you feel the need to publicly cast the Crooked crew in Rocky Horror, you do you. I'll probably like your tweet or tumblr post.
> 
> Big, big thanks to SelfRescuingPrincess & fizzy_smile who helped make this much better with their beta work.
> 
> _I see you shiver, with antici …_
> 
> \--

Lovett was useless any day a cast list went out. 

He checked his phone - no new texts - and then refreshed his email - no new emails - jiggling his leg under his desk. He loosened his tie and drummed his fingers along the desk below his keyboard. Sure, he had an appointment in five minutes and a never-ending to-do list, but how could he manage anything when Dan had promised the list would be sent out right at 9 a.m. and it was already 9:03 a.m. and there was no list in his inbox or on his phone and was the Internet down?

What was taking so long? The cast list likely wouldn't be a surprise. Dan was nothing if not predictable with his casting choices, had been for every production that Lovett was involved in since he was 16. The only surprise here was his choice of show to open this season of the Crooked Community Theater Company. 

Lovett remembered, grinning to himself, the moment Dan told him and Jon at the Denny's down by the river.

"Wait, are you fucking kidding me?" Lovett had asked, eyes wide, that flushed, warm feeling of excitement and anticipation flooding up the side of his neck. "We're seriously doing _Rocky Horror_?"

Dan had lifted a shoulder, half-shrugging. "Sure, why not?"

"Why not?" Lovett had repeated. "Maybe because we live in a small town and the very idea of a show with a transvestite and nudity and _gay kissing_ is probably enough to send half our audience into palpitations?"

Beside him, Jon had snickered, and Lovett was mostly surprised to see that this wasn't bothering Jon at all. Jon, the company's gap-toothed leading man. Curly in _Oklahoma!_, Joseph in _Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat_, the Prince in _Cinderella_. "C'mon Lo, it'll be fun."

"Well, yes, of _course_ it'll be fun," Lovett had said, flapping a hand between the two of them. "I'm just shocked, Dan, shocked that you're willing to take a chance like this, that's all. You know I'm all for it. The gayer we make it, the happier I am."

Dan had rolled his eyes, fondly, from behind his coffee cup. "Well, gee, Lovett, I'm so glad you approve."

And now, there was Lovett, stuck in his cubicle at the local credit union, waiting not-so-patiently for Dan to send out the cast list. 

Honestly, Lovett could have cast this show in his sleep. Jon would get Brad, nerdy yet handsome, and Emily would probably get Janet, which would be thankfully less awkward now that she'd graduated high school and wasn't his student anymore. Priyanka and Tanya, who usually came as a pair, were definitely getting Magenta and Columbia, and Travis was a shoe-in for Eddie. Lovett was gunning for Riff Raff, a dream role, and he figured Dan would cast himself as the criminologist. Frank and Rocky were the wild cards, really, but Dan had insisted that it wasn't a problem, that he'd recruited someone he knew from sportsball to play Rocky. Lovett couldn't wait to see how _that_ worked out.

"Lovett, your appointment's here."

He jumped when Nancy, his co-worker, spoke to him over the top of their shared cubicle wall, his knee hitting the underside of his desk and knocking his coffee over - gas station coffee because the only Starbucks was on the opposite side of town from where Lovett lived and worked and it was _awful_. "Fuck," he said, leaping up to keep the liquid from dripping onto his pants. "Fuck, fuck - thanks, Nancy, sorry, yeah - I'll - I'm going. Just have to -"

She shoved a handful of paper napkins at him, rolled her eyes. He took them gratefully and sopped up the entire mess. "Thanks, yeah - well."

His phone buzzed and he grabbed it so quickly that he lost his balance and had to catch himself on the edge of the desk, sticky under his palm where he hadn't cleaned up all the coffee. 

_Cast list is up. Check your inboxes. Looking forward to the show. We'll meet Saturday morning at 10 for a full read through at the theater._

Lovett swore again, lurching forward to hit refresh on his gmail account. This time, the email popped up and he clicked on it, then opened the attachment. There was no reason to get so worked up about this, but Lovett couldn't help himself. He loved everything about the theater, and this was just his excitement pouring out from his, well, pores. 

He found his name quickly, right next to Riff Raff, nodding a little. Excellent, exactly what he hoped for. Right. Everyone else was cast as expected, a few unfamiliar names here and there, like the guy next to Rocky. That wasn't too much of a surprise. 

But, Lovett realized, Jon's name wasn't next to Brad's. Jon's name wasn't anywhere. 

Lovett stood up, blinked, then started at the top of the list again, almost missing Jon's name on this second go before he saw it and stopped breathing. Jon Favreau, right there, right next to Dr. Frank-n-Furter. 

His jaw fell open and the images that came to mind came fast and sharp and clear and Lovett couldn't block them. Nancy said his name again but he just laughed, a weird bubbly laugh like he didn't know what was even happening anymore, because he didn't. 

In his hand, his phone buzzed. He looked down to see a text from Jon. He swiped at his phone to read it. 

_surprise_ then _dinner tonight?_

Lovett sank back onto his chair, his face twitching, his cheek tight as he started to smile, really smile. Like a maniac, maybe, because Nancy knocked on the side of the cubicle again. "Your face looks weird," she said. "And, your appointment's here. I told you that like five minutes ago. Go."

Lovett tapped at his phone and waved Nancy off, even as he shrugged into his suit jacket so he could get to his appointment and, you know, do his job. _Yes. Chinese. You're buying._

*

"Look, it's one thing to picture you on bent knee singing to Emily-as-Janet while dropping the ring and it's another to imagine you in a corset and make-up and stilettos and drooling over an oiled and tanned blond man. I mean, can you even walk in heels?" Lovett flopped onto the couch in the apartment that he and Jon shared and made grabby hands at the container of not-great-but-it's-the-only-option-available Chinese food held out for him.

"I don't know," Jon said casually. "I've never tried."

Lovett groaned, slapped his palm against his face. "God, Favs, are you trying to kill me here?"

"What?" he asked in that adorably innocent way Jon Favreau often did, when he tipped his head to the side and gave Lovett a look that made his insides turn to mush. His heart went out to all of Jon's students who had to look at that face at the front of their classroom every day. Lovett wouldn't have survived.

He tore open his carton and poked chopsticks into the fried rice. "Nothing. Just - I can't even believe you sometimes."

Jon shrugged. "Dan asked if I'd be interested and I said sure. I don't want to play the same role over and over again."

"So you went straight from wholesome romantic lead to scantily-clad transvestite?" Lovett couldn't even look at him right now because every time he did, he got an immediate, unrequested mind-filter of Jon's face made up in full with very kissable, very red lips and he -

"I think it'll be fun," Jon said, thankfully interrupting Lovett’strain of thought before it went past the point of discomfort while sitting next to Jon on the couch. He'd gotten so good, over the years, at slotting his unrequited crush on Jon into the part of his brain labeled "do not touch" and this was not helping matters.

Lovett squirmed a little. "Oh, I'm sure it'll be a blast. I can just picture all of your students buying tickets to see you crossdress. It'll be hilarious and standing-room-only."

Jon blushed, high on his cheekbones, the color spreading as he ducked his head. "Shut up," he muttered.

Lovett laughed. "Hey, you're the one who agreed to the role. And before you say that Brad ends up in a corset at the end too, I know that. It's completely different. Oh my god, I can't even -"

Jon tossed a wadded up napkin at him, hitting Lovett in the face. 

"Okay, fine, I'll stop. I'm just - I feel like I'm living in another dimension or something. I 100% expected you to play Brad so you and Emily could continue to do that weird will-they-won't-they dance like always."

"I'm not going to date Emily," Jon said quickly, though Lovett noticed the flush still covered his face. "She was my student. Lovett. On stage, whatever, but -"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You're a good guy, Jon Favreau. Which is why I'm still in shock about this casting, But don't worry, I'm going to enjoy it very, very much. Probably too much, if you ask me."

Jon threw a chopstick at Lovett this time, and they looked at each other, grinning. "Well, I'm glad I can provide you with some fantasy material, Lovett," Jon said dryly.

God, Lovett hoped he wasn't blushing as much as Jon had been a minute ago. "Shut up," he said, focusing intently on his moo shoo pork and not at all on Jon, who had thrown his head back, laughing. 

*

Ever since Jon Favreau walked into Lovett's life five years ago, answering a Craigslist ad for a roommate, they'd been inseparable. 

Lovett had been stuck in this small town his whole life, except for the four years he went away to Williams for college, but then he ended up right back here without even a good reason for it. 

One day he was making plans to move to the big city and the next he was living in the apartment above his parents' garage and working at the damn credit union. He wasn't _still_ living above his parents' garage, thank god, but it was just to move across town into the new apartment complex that was trying to be hip and cool along the river. Pretty much anyone under the age of forty who wasn't living with their parents lived in the complex. Including Jon and Lovett, who shared a two-bedroom on the top floor with, actually, pretty excellent views of the river where it curved away to the south. It was walking distance to the high school, where Jon taught English and coached cross country and girl’s volleyball, the reasons he moved to this town that was barely a pinprick on anyone's map in the first place. For once, Lovett thanks god for sports though, because it brought Jon to Lovett.

Most of Lovett's real high school friends had taken the smart route and got the hell out of Dodge the moment they could, leaving behind everyone else, whom Lovett regularly avoided at the grocery store. 

The only saving grace this place had to offer, besides his parents, sister, and nephew who was finally starting to talk in complete sentences, was the Crooked Community Theater Company. It made its home in the Grand Theater, which sat along the main drag in town, facing the river, and hadn't retained any of the opulence Lovett imagined it must have had in its heyday. But the stage was sturdy, the seats (mostly) comfortable, the dressing rooms horribly lit for checking make-up, and it was where Lovett had spent so much of his time since he turned 16 that it felt like a second home. It was a pleasant surprise when it turned out that his new roommate-turned-best-friend wanted to tag along to an audition and found a home there too. 

Whereas Lovett regularly got cast as the goofy sidekick or the comic relief (a role he didn't mind; he'd never be leading man material and didn't want to be), Jon was easily cast as the romantic lead. Dan, who had taken over the theater and opened the company over a decade ago, had been waiting for someone like Jon to show up. Lovett didn't want to admit that _he_ had been waiting for Jon to show up too, never mind that Jon was straight and Lovett hopelessly halfway (all right, all the way) in love with him. 

It was fine, really, Lovett liked to remind himself, he wasn’t alone in his daydreaming. Half the town was halfway in love with Jon Favreau.

Every single woman from age eighteen to fifty (and maybe older) had tried to toss their hat into the ring, as it were, when it came to Jon, and yet in the five years that he'd been in town, Lovett knew him to have gone out on exactly three dates. One was with a girl Lovett graduated high school with, another was with one of Jon's fellow teachers, and the third was with someone Jon knew from whatever past life he lived before this one. None moved past the first date and Lovett never asked why. And besides the girl Lovett knew from high school, he hadn't met the others.

Jon seemed to be satisfied with where he was in life, roommates and best friends with Lovett, arguing about when they'd finally get around to adopting a dog. It was almost too domestic, honestly, so Lovett didn't think too hard about it all that often.

*

The only thing Lovett ever arrived early for was rehearsal, and that had as much to do with the fact that he and Jon carpooled as it did with his eagerness to be safely inside the walls of the Grand Theater. Not to mention, it had been three whole months since the entirety of the company got together all at once. The pool of community theater talent available here in their town wasn't large, so they did tend to draw in from the surrounding areas. Getting together outside of the normal season wasn't always easy. 

He and Jon were two of the first ones there, after Dan, of course. While Jon went off to talk with their illustrious director, Lovett nabbed their usual seats in the second row, on the left aisle, and shoved his backpack under his seat. He waved to Emily, the tiny blonde who was, until last year, one of Jon's students, even though she'd also played Cinderella to his Prince in the spring production of the Rodgers & Hammerstein classic. She'd at least been 18 at the time, though Lovett never ceased teasing Jon about the whole situation. She gave him a big smile, her arm looped through that of a thin, dark-haired girl who might have been in a show before but Lovett wasn't sure. They sat, heads bent together, in the front row on the other side.

Lovett tucked one of his legs under himself and fiddled with his phone while he waited for everyone to get there and Dan to get started. There would be time to be social later, and right now Lovett wanted to just breathe in the theater and the atmosphere and the anticipation.

As the theater began to fill up, the level of conversation grew, and Lovett grinned to himself as he shoved his phone away in his back pocket and looked around. These were his people, he thought, and it felt so damn good to be back here with them.

He knew the moment their recruited Rocky entered, too, because there was a slight hush in conversation, and the closing theater door drew Lovett's attention that way. Honestly, who else would that tall blond with perfect biceps and a strong jawline be playing? Obviously, Lovett stared at him, mouth slightly agape. He definitely wasn't local, Lovett knew that as certain as he knew that he shouldn't keep biting his fingernails. Besides Jon, no one in this town looked like _that_.

"Tom!" 

Lovett's attention jerked over to Jon, who was striding down the aisle, an easy grin on his face. He met the guy halfway and wrapped him in a very not-bro-like hug, a full bodied one, in fact. Lovett was instantly jealous. "Hey man," Tom was saying. "Dan mentioned you might be here. How are you?"

Jon stepped back, that grin still on his face. Lovett watched, wide-eyed and so curious he might fall out of his seat, as Jon slung an arm around Tom's waist. "I'm good. I can't believe Dan convinced you to do this."

Tom's cheeks were pink, but he was smiling too. "I know. I can't believe it either. I should have said no after I saw my costume though. There's - er, not much of it?" He laughed a little, adorably nervous, in Lovett's opinion.

Dan clapped and gave a whistle to quiet everyone. "All right, you're all here, come on. Jon, Tommy, take a seat will you? You'll have time to catch up later."

Jon let Tommy into the row first so that he could sit between the two of them. "Hey, Lo, this is Tommy. Tommy, this is Lovett." 

"So you're Lovett," Tommy said, giving him a quick nod, a once-over in fact, before settling into his seat. "Nice to meet you."

"Cool," Lovett said, trying very, very hard not to dwell on the implication that he'd been a previous topic of discussion when he knew nothing at all about this guy. "Cool cool cool."

Jon nudged his shoulder against Lovett's, but Dan called everyone's attention so Lovett focused up there. And not on Jon. Or Tommy. Or anything else but Dan and his start of the season speech, most of which Lovett would have been able to recite from memory himself. 

"Thank you all for being on time," Dan said, a warm smile on his face as he perched on the edge of the stage and greeted them. "I know some of you might have been a little surprised when I chose _Rocky Horror_ to kick off our season, but I think we'll all be pleasantly surprised at how it goes. I'm excited to have such a talented and enthusiastic cast, as well as some new faces. We'll all have time to get to know one another, some more intimately than others given the nature of the show -" Most everyone laughed and Lovett was momentarily distracted by movement out of the corner of his eye.

Tommy set his hand on Jon's leg, above his knee, presumably to get Jon's attention because he turned and Tommy said something quietly to him that Lovett couldn't quite catch but that made Jon smile, but then he _didn't remove his hand_.

Lovett scrunched down in his seat, his mind reeling, and he did everything he could think of to focus up on Dan and not on _anything else at all_.

*

"Isn't it a little early for a test run?" Jon asked, squirming a little. He was in one of the dressing rooms, Lovett beside him on the counter and Dan lounging across the room on the ratty old couch that had seen better days. Mutka, the company's make-up artist, crouched in front of him.

"Howli's working on the costumes," Dan said, not looking up from the script he was marking up. "I want to have your make-up, especially, set so that we can work around it with everything else."

Jon scrunched up his nose, wiggling it, as Mutka smeared moisturizer onto his cheeks and forehead.

"Suck it up, Favs," Lovett said, swinging his legs. "You're the one who wanted this."

Jon grimaced, only a little until Mutka gave his cheek a firm pat to tell him to knock it off. "Yeah, I know."

"I'm sure you're going to look real pretty," Dan said dryly, which sent Lovett into a fit of giggles, his knees curled up against his chest. He caught Jon's gaze in the mirror and grinned in what he hoped was an encouraging way. 

Lovett tried not to make it obvious that he was watching the entire process, but he absolutely was. The arch of Jon's brows, the aquamarine eyeshadow that glimmered, made his eyes look wide and bright. Mascara-thick fake eyelashes that Lovett definitely did not want to see flutter. Rouge on his cheeks. The way Jon hollowed out his cheeks to purse his lips as Mutka outlined his mouth in deep red lip liner, painted his lips until they were a dark red that screamed 'kiss me.' 

"Here you go. What do we think?" Mutka asked, turning Jon around so that Dan had a good view.

Dan's eyebrows went up and his gaze slipped sideways to Lovett, who was incapable of keeping a neutral expression on his face. "What? I don't have an opinion. Why would I have an opinion? I don't wear make-up." But Lovett’s face was as red as it would be if he really did have on blush.

"Oh, come on, Lovett. It isn't that bad, is it?" Dammit if Jon didn't actually bathis eyelashes in Lovett's general direction.

"Shut up," he scoffed. "You know how you look."

"How's that?" Jon gave Lovett that infuriating head-tilt again.

"Good. You look good. _God_." Lovett hopped down off the make-up counter and crossed his arms. "It's disgusting, really, how good you look in make-up." He rolled his eyes. At himself, at Jon, at Dan's snicker from the couch, he didn't know. "Maybe the eyeshadow should be more green," he said, just for something to say.

Mutka held Jon's chin in her hand and forced him to look up at him. "Hmn, I think you're right, Lovett. Thanks."

Dan tucked his script against the side of the couch and held out his phone. "Smile for the camera, Favreau." He snapped a photo before Jon could object, which resulted in a look of surprise - open mouth, wide eyes, cheeks red from the rouge and a flush. "Perfect. I'll get this to Howli and she'll get working on your costumes." He stuck his phone in his pocket, snatched up the script again,  
and left.

Mutka handed Jon a bottle of cold cream and a washcloth. "I have to go talk to Tanya about dyeing her hair. You can take it off now." So she was gone and Lovett was left alone with Jon.

Jon turned and looked at Lovett, side-eyed, his mouth in a pretty purse. A beat and then his lips curved into a smile, not a real one, but a performative one, perfectly in character. He held it for a moment, and Lovett wondered if he should say something or if this was a bit, and then the corners of Jon's mouth fell and he said, "Even smiling makes my face ache," in a perfect Dr. Frank-N-Furter drawl.

Lovett wanted to only roll his eyes but he couldn't help but smile too. "You're a man of many talents, Jon Favreau," he said, sounding a bit put out. He held his hand out for the washcloth and make-up remover. "Lean back and I'll help you get this mess off your face."

*

Dan clapped once to get everyone's attention as he paced the floor in front of the stage. 

"I want to go through this whole song again, start to finish. I want to see all the blocking, too. Jon, Tommy, that all right with you?"

They glanced at each other, Jon's cheeks pink, but he nodded. "Sure, Dan, that's fine."

Lovett's attention snapped up at that, at Dan calling them out, and he knew exactly what it meant. They'd been in rehearsals for two weeks now - halfway to opening night - and they still hadn't really run through anything in its entirety. They always stopped before any kissing or significant touching happened, which didn't surprise Lovett. It happened even with a more traditional show. It wasn’t until tech week that Dan had finally insisted that Jon kiss Emily during last year's "Cinderella." 

Lovett looked down at his feet and tried not to think about the fact that his own face felt very hot and was likely also very red.

It wasn't like he hadn't watched Jon kiss someone on stage before. He had. Many times, in fact. But none of those times were with a guy - definitely not a very hot guy like Tommy - and he knew it shouldn't matter. A kiss was a kiss and he was in the theater where it was all pretend. Hell, he'd kissed girls on stage himself. 

It shouldn't matter, but it did, and Lovett hated it.

He moved into place on stage along with everyone else without really thinking about it, just going through the motions. He had his blocking and lines and reactions down - maybe he had watched the movie a few too many dozen times, but who's asking - so it didn't take a whole lot of effort to not be too inside his own head. 

Right up until the moment the song switched over to the familiar strains of the wedding march. Then he couldn't take his eyes off of Jon and Tommy, center stage, when Jon jumped into Tommy's waiting arms, wrapping his long, lean legs around Tommy's hips. 

God, Tommy caught him so easily, and Lovett's gaze was drawn to the flex of Tommy's biceps as he held Jon and kept his own balance. There was, to Lovett's shock, no hesitation before Jon kissed Tommy. He just went for it, arms around Tommy's back to hold himself steady, the hand upstage curled against the back of Tommy's head. The way Tommy's knuckles went a little white from how tightly he gripped Jon's waist.

It didn't last long, not with it being the end of a scene and not with the cast breaking character to react, the requisite whoop and whistle from Travis and a smattering of laughter and applause. Jon and Tommy broke it off with a laugh, and Jon unwound himself and stood on his own. He kept his weight against Tommy, both their faces red from, Lovett assumed, the attention.

"All right, all right. That's out of the way now. Let's take a break, so go get something to eat, relax, then we'll come back here and do a full libretto rehearsal in 90 minutes. Sound good?"

A murmur of assent and everyone started to disperse. Lovett, who was down stage left from Jon and Tommy, barely moved. "Wanna get pizza?" Jon asked.

"What?" Lovett blinked over at him and wondered when Tommy had ducked away because Jon was standing in front of Lovett, hands in his pockets, alone.

"Pizza? We should take Tommy to Dininno's. He hasn't been yet."

Lovett willed his pulse to slow. "Yeah. Okay, yeah. Pizza's good. Let me just - uh - bathroom."

Jon grinned at him. "I'll meet you out front."

Lovett made a run for the backstage bathroom, the one tucked in the corner apart from the dressing rooms instead of the one in the lobby. He needed a minute. Maybe a minute and a half. Ninety seconds to just recalibrate his brain from seeing Jon and Tommy kiss like it was nothing. (Or like it was something? That certainly wasn't confusing or anything.) It had affected him, but that was probably just the sight of two very attractive men kissing and nothing else. Probably.

He ran right into Tommy, actually ran into him, nose to shoulder and he stumbled a step backwards. 

"Sorry," Tommy said, hands out to hold Lovett steady, solid on his shoulders. They looked at each other for a moment, Tommy like he was going to say something and Lovett like he couldn't stop thinking about Tommy's mouth. Then Tommy licked his lips and Lovett stepped away quickly. "You're coming to get pizza, right?"

Lovett nodded. "Favs said he'd meet us outside. I'm just going to, you know -" He gestured at the bathroom behind Tommy. "Right." He pushed past him and into it, shutting the door behind him.

Jon Lovett liked nice men. Nice men who laughed at his jokes, who didn't care if he flirted with them a little, even if they were straight, who he could get to know and spend time with and enjoy their company. That was what he liked about Jon, knowing him so well after living with him for almost five years now. And, because Tommy was Jon's friend from college or whatever, he knew Tommy was a nice man too. Which was a good enough reason to understand why, if he was attracted to Jon, he was also attracted to Tommy. It didn't hurt that they were both very easy on the eyes, genuine 10 out of 10 in the looks category. Or that Lovett had walked in on Tommy's costume fitting earlier that morning and his gold speedo left _very little_ to the imagination and now Lovett couldn't unsee it. (Not that he really wanted to unsee it, he was alive and gay, after all.) 

He just didn't need his safe, manageable crush on Jon to expand anymore than he'd already dealt with for the last five years, and he definitely didn't need to complicate things with an additional crush on Tommy. Lovett gave himself three minutes in the bathroom to clear his head before he went out to find Jon and Tommy.

They were talking something-something-something sportsball when he joined them outside, so he quietly kept pace with them as they all walked the two and a half blocks to Dininno's, where they got a table on the patio at the river's edge and waited for their pizza.

"What do you like to watch?" Tommy was asking Lovett, who jerked his focus away from the way the wind rippled the river water and over to Tommy's pale face and sharp cheekbones.

"You mean, what, sports?"

Tommy sat back. "Do you watch sports?" he asked.

Lovett laughed. "Uh, no, I don't. Which is why - look, I like movies. I'm a big movie guy. It sucks that we have to drive like forty-five minutes each way just to see the latest releases but I can usually convince Favs to join me."

Jon grinned at him. "I always enjoy my hour and a half trapped in a car with you, Lovett," he said, having the audacity to sound sincere about it.

Tommy laughed, and Lovett tried not to scowl too much. "Anyway, sports are not for me, but hot athletes are, and hot superheroes wielding hammers and shields definitely are." A glance to Tommy's reaction didn't reveal any discomfort or embarrassment. He got some red at the tips of Tommy's ears, and that was enough for him. Lovett relaxed, mostly satisfied.

"You know, Lo," Jon said, "besides the weird incestuous arm things you get to do with Priyanka, you somehow managed to get out of kissing anyone in this show."

"Not intentional, believe me," Lovett replied quickly. "I mean, it's just unfortunate that not everyone can be you two, kissing up on half the rest of the cast."

Tommy tucked himself forward as he laughed, shaking his head. "It's fun to be free with my kisses."

Lovett was going to actually die, here on this patio, but only if Tommy was really flirting with him. Which of course he wasn't, sitting here with Lovett and Jon outside a small town pizzeria. Not like this. "Right, well." 

Jon brightened and sat up straighter when their pizza came out, brought by gray-haired Maria. He low-key flirted with her, just like everyone did when they knew how good and how cheap the pizza was. 

By the time they each had a slice in hand, the conversation had moved on to other topics, for which Lovett was thankful. So that he didn't have to spend the entire lunch break staring at the sauce painting Jon and Tommy's lips or thinking about them kissing or anything. He definitely didn't do any of that.

*

Lovett considered it his solemn and official duty to make a list of everything that could possibly go wrong with any production and then promise everyone that nothing like any of it will actually happen. It was his thing, and he'd been doing it for years.

He dragged an oversized whiteboard out onto center stage and hit it with the beak and head of the company's rubber chicken. He uncapped the dry erase marker and wrote ROCKY HORROR across the top, underlined it three times. "All right, Crooked crew, pay attention. It's that time again when we get to put together the most important list you'll ever curate. I need your worst case scenarios, your acting nightmares, your career-ending mistakes. Who wants to get us started?"

As usual, everyone started talking at once, to each other, not to Lovett, and no one offered any suggestions. He hit the board again. "All right, all right. I'll start then." He leaned forward and scribbled a few things.

Jon breaks an ankle strutting in his heels.  
The motorcycle doesn't start. Or it does start and Travis drives it off the stage.  
Tommy gets the chicken pox.

"Hey Lovett, I had the chicken pox when I was eight. I'm not going to get it again." Tommy sat on the stage with his long legs stretched out in front, his shoulder pressed against Jon's knee as he sat, legs spread, on a chair. 

"Fine." Lovett scratched out (could have erased it but didn't) "chicken pox" and wrote "shingles" above it. "What else?"

Jon raised a hand and Lovett rolled his eyes. "We're not in class, Favs," he said. Emily and Hanna and a few of the others who were young enough to be Jon's students laughed. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Right, what about - someone steals all of the makeup?"

"A makeup thief," Lovett exclaimed. "Probably a rogue clown convention or something, right?" He wrote it down and waited for more suggestions, which started coming, a combination of real concerns ("no, seriously, what happens if someone _does_ puke on stage?") to outlandish ones ("maybe there's a nationwide EMP that blows out the power across the entire eastern seaboard and it's right during Touch-a Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me and then everyone just starts making out for real because the world's going to end anyway" / "that sounds like your wet dream, Travis, shut up") until the board was covered.

"Okay," Lovett shouted, clapping once. "Look at this board, read it over, commit it to memory for the next 60 to 90 seconds before we erase it all and purge every negative thought or worry from our minds so that we have an amazing, nay, a _perfect_ run of this show." His excitement mixed with the rest of the cast's, at least those who were used to Lovett's kick-off to tech week. "Before we banish this to the ether, does anyone have anything else to add?"

No one shouted anything else out amid the murmured conversations, so Lovett considered his job done. "Tommy," he said. "You're the new kid so come up here and erase all this shit, will you?" 

Tommy looked at Jon, who clapped a hand down on his shoulder and pushed him forward. "Go ahead, Tom, you don't know what kind of honor Lovett's bestowed upon you." He laughed, leaning his whole body to the side, and Tommy got up and crossed the stage to the whiteboard and Lovett.

"This is a very serious matter, Thomas," Lovett said. "If you mess this up, the theater ghost will make sure at least fifty percent of these come true."

"I'm not so sure I want that kind of responsibility," Tommy said, side-eying Lovett and smiling ruefully at the rest of the cast.

Lovett shoved a wadded up paper towel at him. "Too bad. Our fate is now in your hands." He mock bowed at Tommy and shuffled backwards.

"Well, fuck me," Tommy said performatively. He took a deep breath and then set to work wiping the entire board clear of Lovett's chicken scratch. Lovett started a slow clap midway through until the entire cast was applauding wildly. Travis even whistled.

Tommy turned on his heel and gave a sweeping bow to everyone and a quick, or maybe he didn't at all, wink to Lovett. "Well done, Thomas, well done." Lovett couldn't help but smile at Tommy, a rush of affection filling him. He told himself to get over it, and fast, and thankfully Dan chose that moment to interrupt the festive tradition and tell everyone they had five minutes before places for the second act run through.

Lovett beamed, privately while ducking his head, as Favs and Tommy insisted on wheeling the whiteboard off stage for him before they got back to it.

*

Lovett hated when he woke up in the middle of the night for no reason. He hated it even more when he did have a reason. 

Tomorrow was opening night of their two-weekend run of _Rocky Horror_, and anxiety and excitement were fraying his nerves. That and Tommy was spending the night for the first time; he had stayed in town after their final dress rehearsal earlier that evening, and would be crashing at his and Jon's place during the run of the show. He didn't want to admit that it bothered him, especially because he couldn't quite put why it did into words, but it did.

His phone told him it was three in the morning, and his dry mouth told him he was thirsty, so he rolled out of bed and padded quietly out of his bedroom, hoping he didn't wake up Tommy, who was asleep on the couch.

Except, Lovett realized as he walked past the couch on his way to the kitchen, Tommy wasn't asleep on the couch. Nobody was asleep on the couch. The couch wasn't even made up for someone to be asleep on it because the pillow and blanket that Lovett had dutifully pulled out of the linen closet and set out for him to use were still where he left them on one side of the couch, neatly folded. 

Lovett stopped and stared, scratching his belly through his t-shirt and then turning, jerkily, to look down the hall at the closed door to Jon's bedroom.

This was not something Lovett wanted on his mind the night before their opening. He should have just fucking stayed in bed. Or gone to get water from the fucking bathroom. Or - well, it didn't fucking matter now that he was standing in the kitchen looking at an empty couch and trying his damnedest not to imagine what likely was _actually happening_ behind Jon's closed bedroom door.

"Are you serious?" he said, out loud and not in a whisper. He didn't even bother trying to be quiet as he opened a cabinet and found a glass and then slammed on the faucet, the water spraying at him. He filled the glass and drank it all down in a few quick swallows then filled it again. "Fuck."

After drinking two glasses, he leaned over the counter and put his forehead against it, breathing in and out evenly. The balance of the universe was tilting, and the timing could not be worse. He needed his mind right for the show. 

He might have heard Jon's bedroom door open and close again if he hadn't been listening to his own breathing, but he definitely heard Jon say his name. He didn't lift his head. "What?"

"Are you okay? I heard you banging around out here and I was worried."

Lovett squeezed his eyes closed for a moment and then stood up, gave Jon what he hoped was a placid, tight smile. "Yeah just - usual pre-show insomnia. Sorry I woke you. I was trying to be quiet."

Jon crossed his arms and leaned forward against the other side of the breakfast bar. "No you weren't. What's going on?"

Lovett did not want to be having this conversation.

Carefully, he said, "I thought Tommy was staying over. Did he get a better offer?"

"What? No, he's here -" Jon trailed off, following Lovett's sharp gaze to Tommy's overnight bag, which was still on the floor next to the couch and back to Lovett, whose expression was now hard, closed off. "Oh." 

Before Lovett could lie and say it didn't matter, Jon continued. "Tommy and I - in college - we were together. This is just -"

When Lovett shrugged, his whole body shifted, and he refused to look at Jon. "Look, I don't care who you sleep with," he said, wishing he didn't sound so miserable. He cleared his throat. "I just think it's something you could have told me, you know, as your best friend." But maybe, he realized, the thought cutting deep and traitorous right through Lovett's chest, he wasn't Jon's best friend at all. "Or at least as the only other gay man in this entire backwards fucking town."

The moonlight made Jon's face blue-pale, and he opened his mouth to say something but Lovett held up a hand.

"Don't. I need to go back to bed. So do you. Can't have Frank-n-Furter with bags under his eyes on opening night." Without waiting for a response, Lovett moved past Jon, careful to not so much as even brush past him on his way by. Without looking back, he stomped into his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Lovett flopped onto his bed and stuffed his face against his pillow in a silent scream. When Jon knocked on his door and said his name, he ignored him. Really, when Lovett was going through all of the potential unexpected scenarios that might happen around this show, he hadn't even considered this one.

*

It was his MO to avoid confrontation, which was why Lovett, who barely slept after his middle-of-the-night encounter with Jon in the kitchen, was up and gone before the sun rose.

He didn't need any kind of distraction before opening night of a show, and this was the biggest distraction of all distractions in the history of distractions. He really should have seen it coming, thinking back over the last month since rehearsals began. Since Tommy strolled into town and took up his place hip-connected to Favs. Lovett's mistake was interpreting their easy friendship as a bro one, not an "I'm attracted to you and we used to fuck" one. 

He pressed his fingers into his eyeballs, elbows on the table where he sat in his usual booth at Denny's. He ordered too much food, and there was a very good chance Favs was going to show up before school and force him to talk about this. But where else was Lovett supposed to go? It wasn't like he could just show up at his parents' house or his sister's at seven in the morning to complain that his roommate, who he thought was straight actually wasn't. And that said roommate, who Lovett was pretty well fully in love with (he had to just admit it, all right?), had an ex-boyfriend who was hot and charming and _perfect_. So he ended up where he used to end up all the time before Jon came along - alone at the Denny's down by the river with a Grand Slam, extra side of bacon, and three empty coffee cups in front of him.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Favs but Tommy who showed up, stepping hesitantly alongside the booth and clearing his throat until Lovett looked up at him. "Hey, Lovett, is this seat taken?"

Lovett made some kind of unattractive scoffing noise but didn't say no, just sat back and folded his arms across his chest. 

"It's not an excuse - and I'm not making any excuses," Tommy said, sitting across from Lovett with ramrod straight posture and his hands folded in front of him, "but for what it's worth, I didn't know Jon wasn't out to you." He picked up one of Lovett's discarded sugar packets, crinkling it between his fingers. 

"Let the record state that Jon _still_ isn't out to me," Lovett said haughtily. 

Tommy rolled his eyes and Lovett chose not to call him on it. "Look, that whole conversation needs to be between you and Jon."

Lovett looped his finger through the handle of the only coffee mug still containing any coffee and contemplated drinking it. Instead, he wrapped his other hand around it and just looked into the mug. "Then what are you doing here talking to me about it?"

"I'm here to talk about us," Tommy said.

HIs attention snapped up to Tommy's face, which was tight and calm, though he didn't meet Lovett's eye, not exactly. Almost like he was nervous, which Lovett didn't really believe. If Tommy wasn't nervous about gyrating around on stage wearing only a gold Speedo, how could talking to Lovett possibly make him nervous? 

"I'm not mad at you," Lovett said. "So if that's what you're worried about, don't be. I'm not really even mad at Jon. I'm just - disappointed." He pulled a face, scrunching up his nose. "Fuck, you know what I mean. Not like the way my mom's disappointed in me for failing to remember her birthday every other year or whatever. But like, I'm gay and I don't exactly hide it and there's also _no other gay people_ in this town so the fact that there's Jon, my roommate, my so-called friend, out there gaying it up too, well, I just think he could have said something."

Tommy nodded slowly. "I don't disagree with you," he said diplomatically. "And I'm not worried that you're mad at me. That's not what I want to talk to you about." He paused, and Lovett watched him. Tommy's cheek twitched. "I like you." Before Lovett could ask or argue or anything, he barrelled on. "Before you get all worked up, I'll lay it all out. I'm bisexual, I used to date your roommate, and right now, I'd like to date you."

"You want to date me," Lovett repeated, almost 100% sure that he did not hear that correctly. "You just slept with Jon last night."

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, that's - true, I did. So let me try this again. I'd like to date you. And I'd like to date Jon, too. I'd like all of us, the three of us, to all date each other."

So he hadn't heard incorrectly, but that didn't mean Lovett had any idea what the fuck was actually going on. "The three of us. Together. Dating. Does Jon - know about this?"

"We talked about it this morning, yeah," Tommy said. "He wanted to make some grand gesture, so don't be surprised if you get like a dozen roses or something before the show tonight. I thought it would be better to just lay it all out there like this. But I'll get you flowers too, if that's what you want."

Lovett didn't usually find himself at a loss for words. Yet here he was, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish as he stared across a table - at Denny's, of all places - at a gorgeous, funny, incredible man who wanted to date him. As part of a threesome. A throuple? He didn't even know the right terminology for this. "Why - what if I'm not interested in either of you? Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm automatically attracted to every guy I know."

The look Tommy gave him was a mix of annoyed and amused. "You've been flirting with me since the moment I got here and, also, I'm not blind. I've seen the way you look at Jon."

"Jon's had five years to make a move on me and he hasn't!"

"Yeah, well, Jon's an idiot," Tommy said dryly. 

That got Lovett to laugh, even though Lovett didn't want to, but he sobered up quickly, hiding a smile behind his coffee. He couldn't disagree, but it still hurt. Maybe not hurt, exactly, but it definitely rubbed him the wrong way that Jon hadn't brought this up before, in all the time they've known each other, _lived together_, taked about adopting a fucking dog together. 

"Look, Lovett, if you're not interested, that's okay. Just say so. I’ll be gone in two weeks when the show's over and you can pretend none of this ever happened."

"That's not possible," Lovett blurted out. He'd never be able to forget that sinking feeling last night when he realized Tommy and Jon were sleeping together. He wouldn't be able to look at Jon again without knowing what he knows now, that Jon was gay (or bi or whatever, Lovett didn't know because _Jon hadn't talked to him about it yet_). He definitely wouldn't be able to keep living with him.

"All right," Tommy continued. "Then what is possible?"

Lovett set the mug down. He stopped bouncing his knee. He squeezed his hands together over his lap. "Can we just - get through the show tonight?" he asked. "I'm not saying no. God, I'd be an idiot if I said no to this. You. Him. Both of you - whatever this is. But I need to focus on the show right now. We all need to focus on the show."

Tommy nodded. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth, lips parting like he was going to say something else, but then he didn't. "Sure," he said, standing up. "I'll see you at the theater later."

Lovett couldn't interpret Tommy's tone, because it was flat and emotionless. It felt like Lovett had punched himself in the stomach. "See you later," he said to Tommy's retreating back. He stared at his stack of lukewarm pancakes and then pushed them aside. 

*

_It's not easy having a good time._

That line, said in Jon's rumbling baritone, was the only thing Lovett could think about the rest of the day. 

He couldn't turn his brain off from replaying his Denny's conversation with Tommy over and over again. He hadn't seen Jon, hadn't even received a text from him, and steadfastly managed to avoid him when he got to the theater an hour before call time. Even though all the men shared the same dressing room, Lovett was in costume and make-up and hiding in his favorite spot in the wings off stage left without running into Jon or Tommy.

He thought he got away with it, but damn Favs for knowing him too well. He was also ready for the show, make-up fresh, wig on, cape wrapped around himself like a bat, as he sat on the floor beside Lovett and kicked his legs out in front of him. His platform heels were already on. Even sitting down, they gave him legs for days. Lovett had to tear his gaze away from Jon's legs wrapped in those sheer black tights.

"Hey," Jon said, quietly, turning his head to look at Lovett. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you." Lovett pinched the inside of his wrist to keep from interrupting. He knew he needed to hear Jon out, even if ten minutes before curtain was the worst possible time for this all to unfold. "I thought if I told you, and it didn't work out, then I'd lose you as a friend, and I didn’t - don't - want to lose you. You mean too much to me."

A bruise was going to form where Lovett had the skin of his wrist twisted between two fingers, so he let go with a sigh of relief and turned his face toward Jon. He looked so damn _pretty_, all turquoise sparkly eyeshadow, long, thick lashes, full cherry red lips. "You're an idiot," he said because anything else sounded even stupider than that.

Jon knocked the back of his head off the wall and sighed. "Yeah, I really am." He twisted his hands together in his lap. "Did I completely ruin my chance at this?"

"No," Lovett said quickly. "Of course you didn't." He laughed, a swallowed bark that sounded too loud on the side of the stage, with the audience taking their seats on the other side of the curtain. "I've never been particularly good at turning off the part of me that's in love with you, you know, so why should now be any different?"

Jon's eyes widened, dark and wet behind all of that carefully-applied make-up. "Oh! Good. Lo, I was terrified that you -" He set a hand on top of Lovett's and squeezed. He smiled, too big for his face, in that beautiful way that Favs always seemed to smile. Like it was such a part of him that it radiated from the inside out. "Good," he repeated. "I am so fucking in love with you too."

Lovett thought he saw Jon's gaze drop to his mouth, and Lovett's insides twisted up in anticipation of that one thing happening that he'd wanted for so long. He swayed forward a little, toward Jon, and wet his lips. But before their lips touched, they were interrupted by Travis, who coughed less than discreetly and smirked at them. "There you two are. Dan's calling a cast meeting before curtain, so let's go."

Jon, red-faced, struggled to his feet in the heels, while Lovett got up and sent as close to a death-inducing glare as possible to Travis. "You're dead to me," he muttered as he brushed past Travis, striding to catch up with Jon. He heard Travis laughing behind them.

*

Opening night blurred past. 

Lovett remembered fifteen percent of the show, at most. 

The things he remembered best were these: the moment Jon stepped on stage, opened his mouth ("How do you do I / see you've met my / faithful handyman") and shot Lovett such a fond look that Lovett could feel it in his toes; when Jon flicked off his cape and pitched his hip out; Tommy flexing his biceps to screams from the audience; Travis almost taking out half the cast when he peeled in on his motorcycle; and the curtain call, when Jon slid his hand into Lovett's on one side and Tommy did the same on the other side, and he looked between the two of them, grinning like an absolute fool.

It was after midnight by the time the three of them stumbled back into Lovett and Favs' apartment, deep into a post-show high after a few celebratory drinks. 

Lovett hopped up onto the arm of the couch, kicking his legs out. "That was incredible," he said, his face aching from smiling so much. The performance had sold out, the audience was on its feet before the bows were over, and Lovett wanted to hold onto that rush of performance pleasure that coursed through his veins. How did he ever manage living when he didn't feel like this? 

He kept talking even as Jon locked the door behind them and Tommy made his way into the kitchen and turned on the tap. He grinned over his shoulder, shaking his head as he filled three glasses with water. 

"What a show," Lovett said brightly, "and you two! Who knew. Honestly, I didn't, but that was some of the hottest shit I've ever seen. You, dancing around on stage in stilettos, and Tommy, god, Tommy you were practically naked. It was hot, and I can say that now, can't I? Because we're - I'm allowed to say things like that now."

Then Jon was in front of him, thighs against Lovett's knees, hands on either side of him on the arm of the couch. "Are you going to let me kiss you, or are you going to keep talking?" Jon leaned in, much closer to Lovett than he'd ever been before. 

Lovett might have stopped breathing, he couldn't be sure. He definitely knew that he could hear his own heartbeat thumping in the room like a gong. "I, uh, well, you know me, Favs, I can definitely keep talking all night long if no one tries and stops me."

"Jon, you should stop him," Tommy called out from the kitchen. "I can think of a hundred better ways to spend the night."

"Fuck me," Lovett muttered, eyes wide, in absolute shock that this was actually happening. That his life had brought him to this moment.

"That's the plan," Jon said, the words disappearing into Lovett's mouth as he finally - finally! - kissed him. 

Jon tasted like the beer that he chugged during the after party, a little stale but warm and wet. Lovett didn't know what to do with his hands because he wanted to rub them all over Jon's chest and down his back, but also he was kind of frozen in place save for the movement of his lips against Jon's. He opened his mouth, groaned as Jon took advantage and slid his tongue in alongside Lovett's. He curled his fingers around the arm of the couch and held on for dear life.

When Jon pressed forward, Lovett's legs widened of their own volition, making room for Jon's narrow hips inside of them. He wrapped his arms around Lovett, opened his palms against Lovett's back, and Lovett tipped himself forward against Jon. "Holy shit," he gasped out as the kiss broke, for just a second. He couldn't bear the thought of not continuing to kiss Jon, so even as he kept talking, his lips sought out Jon's in between every word. "We could have been doing this for years, Favs. We're such idiots."

Jon didn't answer, just kissed Lovett again, deeply, filthily, digging his fingers into the sides of Lovett's spine.

"What about me?" When Jon pulled away, panting, he tipped his forehead down against Lovett's and didn't step away. They both turned, just enough, to find Tommy within arm's reach, a smile snagging at the corners of his mouth. He was flushed and bright, looked like he'd been watching and enjoying it very much.

"Sorry," Jon said, breathless, "just making up for lost time." He reached out for Tommy and drew him in. Tommy had a few inches on Jon, so Jon had to tilt his face up to kiss Tommy, which gave Lovett a marvelous view of the line of Jon's throat, the movement of his Adam's apple. Lovett lifted his hand to spread his fingers out against the short hair above Jon's ear, delighted in the sound Jon made into Tommy's mouth.

Lovett watched for a long moment, catching his breath and calming his heartbeat, but it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before. On stage that very night. (Oh, all right, this kiss was in no way a stage kiss. This kiss was deep and filthy and made Lovett's thighs tense and stomach leap.) "Hey," he said, more sharply than he intended. "Not to say I'm not enjoying the show, because I am, but - when is it my turn again?"

Jon ducked his head, shoulders shaking with laughter, against the side of Tommy's neck. Tommy turned to Lovett, drawing his gaze over Lovett slowly, intentionally. Lovett shivered. "Hi," Tommy said, curling his hand tightly over Lovett's hip.

He swallowed. "Hi, Tommy," Lovett said. "Are you going to kiss me now too? I've been waiting."

"So impatient," Tommy murmured, but he kissed Lovett nonetheless. He kissed him with less urgency than Favs had kissed him, but with more intensity. Lovett felt like Tommy was physically memorizing every stroke of their tongues, every sound that he made, this entire moment. A bolt of desire shot through him. Balancing precariously on the arm of the couch, Lovett reached up to touch Tommy's hair too, one hand on each of them, as he let himself be kissed by Tommy Vietor.

Jon lifted his face from the crook in Tommy's neck and moaned. "We should move - onto the couch, maybe," he said. He had his arms around both of them, tugged at Lovett until his feet hit the floor. He stretched up onto his tiptoes, refusing to stop kissing Tommy. "Come on, Lo - it'll be better over here."

He whined but moved anyway, the three of them awkwardly tumbling onto the couch together. Lovett leaned out for a kiss, not picky about which of them accepted it. Tommy's mouth was still warm and wet, and Lovett adjusted under him, one leg thrown off the side of the couch. "God, this is amazing. You're both incredible. What even is my life right now?"

Tommy laughed as he slid away from Lovett, pressing his cheek against his chest. "Keep kissing Jon," he said. "Relax."

Before Lovett could ask why and what was he doing, Jon's insistent, pretty mouth was back on Lovett's. He wrapped an arm around Jon's neck and tugged him down against him, groaning. "What are you doing?" Lovett panted, pulling away to strain his neck looking at Tommy, who was moving down his body, hands rubbing against Lovett's hips, thighs.

"Mmn, Lo," Favs murmured, his mouth opening against Lovett's throat as Tommy sank to his knees beside the couch. Lovett reached out for him. "Give yourself over to absolute pleasure," Jon continued, his tone lifting in tune with the words he'd sung just an hour earlier.

Lovett tightened his fingers in Tommy's hair and threw his head back, more than content to do just that.

**Author's Note:**

> _...pation._
> 
> Let me know how you would have cast the show in the comments, yeah? <3
> 
> Also: If anyone has inspiration to write more in this AU, please, please feel free.


End file.
